


Kindred

by zathara001



Category: Agent X (2015)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 22:15:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5350406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zathara001/pseuds/zathara001
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of "Truth, Lies, and Consequences," John Case returns to Colorado to debrief his predecessor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kindred

**Author's Note:**

> AUTHOR'S NOTE: So I've developed an odd fondness for Agent X - the new TV show with Sharon Stone, Gerald MacRaney, and Jeff Hephner. And it looks like I'm the first to post a fic about it, which is a new thing for me; I'm usually late to the party, or the fandom, as the case may be. 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything to do with Agent X - William Blake Herron, Beacon Pictures, and TNT do. All rights in this work are hereby given to them.
> 
> CONTINUITY NOTE: Takes place after 1.05, "Truth, Lies, and Consequences."

The man currently known as John Case had been sitting in a diner across from the bank in a small Colorado town for almost two days before the red pickup with the camper shell pulled into the bank's parking lot and a silver-haired man with a goatee stepped out.

 

The man closed the door to the truck and spoke to someone inside. That someone, John knew, was Bella, a shepherd mix of some kind whose bark was supposedly worse than her bite. John hoped he never had to find out whether that was actually true.

 

John stood, dropped a twenty on the table to cover the endless cups of coffee he'd drunk, and opened the door to the diner just as his quarry disappeared into the bank.

 

John pushed the diner door open and paused there, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the brighter light, then took the few steps that brought him to his car, leaned against it to wait.

 

In a town this small, there'd never be a line anywhere, so it was only a couple of minutes before the silver-haired man emerged from the bank, scanning his surroundings as John would do.

 

The older man's eyes landed on John, and his expression sharpened.

 

"Buy you a drink?" John asked, pitching the question so the other man would know there was no immediate threat.

 

"Little early for alcohol," the older man replied. He didn't bother to look both ways before crossing the street - the street wasn't busy enough this time of day to warrant the effort.

 

"Doesn't have to be alcohol," John countered, then glanced at the nearly-empty street. "Town like this, I might even be able to buy you lunch."

 

"Hell of a thing to spend your combat pay bonus on," the older man offered his hand and John shook it. "Unless this is a working call."

 

"Courtesy call," John replied. "Thought you'd like to know the outcome of the mission I asked about before."

 

"Figured if it got really bad, I'd've heard about it by now."

 

"Even here?"

 

"Even here. Jo's Bar over on Center Street has better food than the diner. And less nosy staff."

 

"Lead the way."

 

#

 

The good thing about a town this size, the man formerly known as John Case thought, was that things that would raise eyebrows in a bigger city went unnoticed here - things like bringing a dog into a bar.

 

John led the way to a back booth. He and his younger counterpart - the current agent of unknown identity who served the United States in ways even the most dedicated black ops soldiers didn't - took seats that let them see the entrance and the doors to the kitchen. Bella curled up under the table, and John took a moment after they'd all settled down to study the other man in the perpetually dim light of Jo's Bar.

 

It had only been a month or so since the other man had come to Colorado to ask him about the Kirov mission and the toxin called Husk, but that month appeared to have aged the younger man considerably.

 

Then again, John reflected, being an X had a tendency to do that. He'd know.

 

It wasn't until after the waitress had taken their orders and brought their beverages that the younger man spoke.

 

Concise as the debriefing was, the X still had to pause when the waitress brought their burgers, and then resume the story while they ate.

 

"So General Scott's in custody," the younger man concluded. "And all's right with the world."

 

Only it wasn't, John thought. If it were, the X wouldn't be here, talking to the only other person who'd understand what he'd been through. If, John mused wryly, he'd actually said what he'd been through. Which he hadn't.

 

John let the silence linger while they finished the last of their burgers. Then he took a swallow of iced tea and studied the younger man.

 

"That's it?" he asked finally.

 

"That's what?" the younger man looked up with a quizzical expression.

 

"All of the story?"

 

"Yeah, why?"

 

"Good try, kid." John chuckled and dunked a fry into the blob of ketchup on his plate. "But I've been bullshitting since before you were born. There's no way an X would come all the way out here just to debrief an old warhorse."

 

He left it at that, leaving it to his younger counterpart to take the prompt. Which he would, sooner or later, John knew - this mission, this op, had shaken the X, shaken him badly enough that he sought counsel from the only other man who might be able to advise him.

 

Finally, the younger X blew out a breath. "I died."

 

John felt his eyebrows rising. "Looking pretty fit for a dead man."

 

"I was exposed to the Husk toxin. Malcolm got to me with the antidote, but not before I died. Or thought I did," he allowed.

 

"I only regret, that I have but one life to give for my country," John murmured, quoting Nathan Hale - the first X, if legend could be believed.

 

The current X snorted. "He didn't have to get up and go to work the day after he did."

 

"Fair point." John sipped his tea once more, then, "You knew it could happen when you became an X - even before, assuming you were military."

 

"Army," the younger man confirmed. "First Special Operations Detachment. And, yeah, I knew - I know." His mouth quirked. "It was easier before I actually did it."

 

That surprised a laugh out of John. This current X had an odd sense of humor - but then, he did, too. Maybe it was a trait all X's shared?

 

"But after I woke up," the current X continued, "Harold - the nerdy scientist I mentioned - said that now I'd had this near-death experience, I should find someone and settle down."

 

The words brought long-buried memories shooting to the surface - a dark-haired woman with laughing eyes, except on the day he left, and a tow-headed little boy standing beside her in overalls and a camo jacket to match his father's fatigues.

 

"… so I wouldn't have to die alone," the younger man finished, the words bringing John back to the present.

 

"That's an even bigger load of bullshit than you were dumping earlier," John said without thinking.

 

"How so?"

 

"Everybody dies alone. Even if you're lying in your own bed, surrounded by kids, grandkids, great-grandkids and the family dog. They can't take that last step with you."

 

The younger man appeared to consider that. "You don't think being surrounded by family would be better than being alone?"

 

John drained his glass, waved to the waitress for a refill, waited until she'd poured and gone before he answered. The staff at Jo's might be less nosy than most, but he wasn't going to broadcast anything when they were around. Old habits weren't necessarily bad habits, after all.

 

"I think some people might find it comforting," John allowed.

 

"Not all?"

 

"Not all."

 

"That begs the question. Who wouldn't find it comforting to be surrounded by family when they're dying?"

 

"People who aren't like us. Sheep, not sheepdogs."

 

"I’ve heard that comparison before," the X said. "But sheepdogs need shepherds."

 

"You ever been on a sheep ranch?" John asked.

 

"Can’t say I have."

 

"Then you haven’t seen the dogs they put out with the sheep. The dogs are turned loose with the sheep when they’re puppies, never bond with humans at all. They bond with the sheep, roam with the herd, and protect without being told."

 

"Huh." The younger man took a swallow of his own drink - something sweet and carbonated, of course. "That’s reassuring, actually. Means I don’t have to think of my Veep as a shepherd."

 

John could see how that could be incongruous, even for his own Veep, much less a female one.

 

After a few minutes of silence that was oddly comfortable, the X stirred again. "You really think we’re that different than other people?"

 

"As different as the dogs are from the sheep they protect," John answered immediately. He’d had a lot of time to think since his retirement. "We live with them, mingle with them, eat with them, but we’re not them. They find comfort in being around people like themselves."

 

"We don’t?"

 

"Of course we do, but there are lots more of them than there are of us, so we get comfortable being the odd dog in the herd - because we are different from the rest of them. They know it, too," John added. "They don’t like being around us much."

 

"Spoken like someone who never had anyone."

 

There wasn’t malice in the younger man’s tone, just an observation, and that was the only reason John bothered to respond.

 

"I did, once, a long time ago. Wife and son. He’d be about your age, now."

 

"They know what you did?"

 

"Last time I saw them, I was heading off to the Army," John replied, that memory surfacing once more. "When I became the X, they were told I was killed in action."

 

"Pam had it easier," the X murmured.

 

"Pam?" John prompted.

 

"Girlfriend. I broke up with her when I took the job." The other man gave a wry chuckle. "A couple of years later, she _was_ the job. Got caught up in things bigger than she knew. I saved her life."

 

John raised an eyebrow. "You think it’s easier that she knows you’re alive, but chose duty over her?"

 

"She was JAG. She understands duty, too."

 

"You can comfort yourself with that if you want."

 

"My dad was killed in the service," the current X said. "I was just a kid, but I remember Mom crying, grieving. She was never the same after. At least Pam didn’t have to go through that."

 

"What about you?" John asked. "After your dad left, I mean."

 

"I want to say that I somehow knew he wasn’t coming back that day," the X said. "There was something in the way he held Mom, something in the way he told me to be a good man."

 

John felt his jaw tensing, forced himself to relax it. The words didn't mean anything. That the new John Case was about the same age as his Steven didn't mean anything, either. Because, "I guess all guys who're going away tell their sons that."

 

"There was more - that people were counting on him, he couldn't let them down. But what I remember most is the way he told me to be a good man." The younger man gave a rueful grin that wasn't directed at anything in particular. "Guess I've been trying to do that all my life."

 

"Well, if my son did the same, then I'd be proud, so I expect your daddy would be proud of you."

 

It was hard for John to say the words, but he forced them out and hoped they sounded sincere. He meant them, but he'd been distracted by the X's grin. It was achingly familiar, even if the last time he'd seen it was on a woman's face nearly thirty years ago.

 

Was it possible? And if it was, did he want to know? More to the point, did he have the right to upend the new John Case's life, just to satisfy his own … what? Guilt? Nostalgia? Regret? Some combination of all three?

 

A memory flashed, of the first time he'd seen the younger man.

 

_"I got tired of the lies and government BS."_

 

Wasn't his life, wasn't the younger man's life, just an extension of those lies? And if he was tired of the lies, then there was only one thing to do…

 

Hope Steven would forgive him.

 

"I like to think Steven went into the Army," he said.

 

The X looked up, his expression more guarded than it had been before. "Steven?"

 

"My boy," John clarified. "He gave me one of those green plastic army soldiers when I left. Sure, it was probably the only thing he had in his pocket, but I still have it."

 

The younger man was studying him now, his gaze intent and searching. John could only wait for what the X would say.

 

"I still have the lighter my - _you_ gave me."

 

The words were quiet, but no less certain for that. John started to breathe again as they each absorbed the truth of the other.

 

For long minutes, John searched for something to say that wouldn't be trite or overly emotional or worse.

 

 _So much for age bringing wisdom_.

 

But there was one question he needed the answer to.

 

"How mad are you?"

 

The younger X - no, Steven - gave a half-laugh. "Can’t get too mad, can I? Not after all that talk about sheepdogs being different from sheep." There was that rueful grin again. "And not after I did about the same thing to Pam."

 

John had to chuckle at that.

 

Then Steven’s smile slipped. "No idea where it leaves us, though."

 

That was the question, wasn’t it? Whatever the biology between them, John knew he’d given up any right to the title of "father" to this boy, this man, when he’d become the John Case of his own day and allowed his wife and son to believe he had died. Trying to reclaim that title now would only cause tension.

 

Still, he didn’t want to lose touch with this son he didn’t know but who had followed even more in his footsteps than he could ever have dreamed. And that was it, John realized, the thing that bound them together even more than blood.

 

"I told you before, it’s rare I get the chance to speak my mind," John said. "Betting it’s the same for you?"

 

It was Steven’s turn to chuckle. "You could say that."

 

"I could be your sounding board," John offered. "I’ve been there, and I’m still under oath not to reveal any state secrets. Besides, who would I tell? Bella?"

 

That surprised a laugh - an honest one, if John was any judge - from the younger man. "You said she knows where all the bones and bodies are buried."

 

"She’ll keep your secrets as well as she keeps mine."

 

"It’ll be hard to get out here much," Steven said after a minute. "Never know when a crisis will hit."

 

It wasn’t a flat-out refusal, John noted. It was, though, a challenge wrapped in a good point. John had made the offer, and now Steven probed to see whether he was serious about it. There was only one thing to say.

 

"Well," John drawled, "Bella and I might be persuaded to make a trip further east on occasion. Have to get a satellite phone to let you know when, but I think we can manage that."

 

Steven met his gaze. "I'd like that."

 

John hoped he kept the relief from his face. Instead, he smiled and raised his glass. " _Lux in tenebris_ , St - John Case."

 

 


End file.
